


Buttercups and Daisies

by loveletterstoledger



Category: 10 Things I Hate About You (1999)
Genre: Cute, Detention, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fights, Flowers, Fluff, High School, Jealousy, Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:42:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29805159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveletterstoledger/pseuds/loveletterstoledger
Summary: An encounter with Joey Donner leads to Patrick defending your honor and getting himself into trouble; he returns home late with flowers and an apology.
Relationships: Patrick Verona/Reader





	Buttercups and Daisies

**Author's Note:**

> cross-posted from @loveletterstoledger on Tumblr.

“Will you be sharing the bed with me or should I take the couch?”

Even through your light slumbering, coupled with the ambient noise outside your bedroom window did you hear the gentle fluctuations of Patrick’s honeyed accent. You lifted your head and craned your neck forward to meet his deep, mahogany gaze as he stood halfway across the bedroom; his eyes always conveyed comfort, steadfast support and an endless well of love. As you took in the sight of him, you noted all the little things you’d become so fond of. He wore his grey, pinstriped shirt for you today, one that you often stole out of his closet to wear on colder days. The material bunched at his wrists where he’d pushed up the sleeves and hugged his biceps (the shirt might’ve been a touch too small on him.)

In spite of recent events, he was smiling. The last time you’d seen him the opposite had been true and you were unsure of what had changed. You were still slightly bothered by the way you both had left things.

Earlier, Patrick had gotten into a nasty disagreement with a classmate over you and instead of admiring him more for his integrity and protectiveness, you grew upset because the ending never changed: he would receive a detention and be taken away from you. Even though detention was never more than a few hours, you despisedbeing apart from him more than you had to be. He was your life-line and every time you found yourself thinking what life would be like without Patrick, you immediately let the thought go because of how much the idea upset you.

The incident had taken place in painting class (a class which Pat wasn’t particularly skilled at but had nonetheless taken without complaint so that he would have at least one shared class with you) when yours’ and Pats’ leastfavorite person came waltzing through the door: Joey Donner.

To every girl in your class, he was the most attractive male in school, but to you he was just another douchebag, overrated at best. Said jock would roam the halls during last period (unquestioned, because he was oh-so liked, even by the faculty) and insinuate himself into the classroom of whichever pretty girl had caught his eye that day, or perhaps to ingratiate himself with the teachers that took his flattery to heart.

Today, the pretty girl he had his eye on had been you.

In class, you’d sat opposite to Patrick as you had worked studiously on your painting. In the midst of adding some extra detail to the petals of the sunflower on your canvas, you did not notice Joey as he had strode across the room and plopped down on the empty stool to your left. However engrossed you had been, there was still someonewhodid notice the undesirable presence in the room.

Joey had leaned over your shoulder to study your painting and the smell of his cologne had wafted toward your nostrils; you’d had to suppress your gag-reflex, “Wow, that’s a really good sunflower, y/n. You didn’t need to look at a real sunflower for that or anything?”

The initial commentary had started off innocent enough that you grudgingly humored him, “nope. I didn’t. I’m justthatgood.”

Patrick had looked up from his own work; his dark curls fell loosely into his face and his hands were spattered with paints: yellows, reds and greens. Though slightly perturbed by Joey’s lack of respect towards your personal space, he had kept his cool and remained unbothered, “to what do we owe the pleasure, Joey?”

Joey recoiled the instant Patrick had spoken to him, “no one’s talking to you, kangaroo boy,” he sneered and had quickly turned his attention back to you, “I was talking…to this little sunflower.”

You had involuntarily shifted away from the boy seated beside you and the look on your face conveyed to Patrick just how uncomfortable you were by the entire situation. On a normal day, he wouldn’t have let Joey get to him so badly (or easily), but the fact that the jock had picked youof all girls to flirt with was him desiring to send a message to Patrickas well.

“Leave her alone, Joey. Go back to…whatever sewer-holeyou crawled out of,” Patrick’s voice was thicker and deeper when he was upset and his tone had made you look up and meet his gaze. Pat’s intensely dark eyes were nearly black as he had taken in the sight of Joey sitting next to you; you didn’t like it when these two got together. Joey didn’t have a care in the world that you were Patrick’s territory. The two young men despised each other and nothing was going to stand in the way of their rivalry.

Joey had chuckled lightly and held his hands up in a defensive surrender, “sure, sure, I’ll head out,” he put his hands back on the table, “Verona’s PMS-ing today. Must be from all the time he spends in here now instead of metal shop.”

“Knock it off Joey, that isn’t funny,” you grumbled as you had hunched over your painting and tried to drown him out. You had felt Patrick reach for your hand beneath the table and you gave it to him, letting his thumb brush over each of your individual knuckles in an intimate effort to calm you. It wasn’t much, but you’d take all you could get. You just wanted Joey to back offand leave you both be.

You had had a number of encounters with Joey before, but most now had been limited because he rarely had the guts to call Patrick out. Deep down, you believed Joey was still afraid of Pat and the thought had made you want to laugh on the spot. He was trying so hardto seem fearless, but the look in his eyes betrayed him; Pat was much quicker on his feet than Joey, but still, he persisted.

“Aw, you don’t like jokes?” Joey asked, the hint of a pout on his lips, “it’s not my fault somebody cut off your boyfriend’s balls.”

“Alright that’s enough!” Patrick slammed his hands down on the table as he practically leapt out of his seat. His canvas had been discarded onto the floor in his haste and Joey, who had been thoroughly enjoying himself up till this point, had quickly gotten up and was cautiously backing away from Patrick who was closing in on him a little too quickly for your liking.

Your classmates were staring, all looking on in eager anticipation as each and every one of them were hoping for a fight. Across the room, the teacher was shouting for them to break up their disagreement and head to the principal’s office, but neither heard anything other than their own voices. 

“What are you gonna do, Verona?” Joey mocked as he held his hands up in feigned fear of being hit. Ever since Patrick had become ‘mister romance’ with you, all of the horrific rumors floating around about him had made him into a laughing stock among the ‘populars’ and he was not necessarily as feared as he once had been, or so it seemed to you now. You could hear Joey trying to suppress his quiet giggles,“ you’re not as valiant as you think you are, defending your dickand not your woman.”

Patrick had scoffed and angrily combed his fingers through his unruly mane, “spew your filth, Joey, go ahead,” he had exhaled through his nostrils which you knew he only did when he was livid, “say whatever the fuck you want about me. But I told you to leave her the fuck alone.”

Joey had felt the tension pooling within the tiny classroom and the crowd was beginning to turn on him as he had been backed into the corner of turning tail and fleeing. The students sitting closer had heard what was being said and more than a few had been frowning at Joey, “whatever, I’ll go. I’m not interested in her anyways if she’s a psycho like you.”

Patrick hadn’t been going to let one more second pass him by where he allowed that smug smirk to be plastered across the asshole’s face as if he had won. You had learned more than one thing that day at school, the most important being that Patrick Verona had a temper. You had never seen the Aussie in such a blind rage before and even still he was the gentlest young man you’d ever laid eyes upon. Just because your classmates and teachers never saw it didn’t mean it was not there.

Pat could have thrown a punch or two, kicked some shins or kneed Joey the in the balls, but instead Patrick had grabbed an open bottle of blue paint from the table and squirted its contents at Joey, coating the other man’s pristine white shirt in thick, heavy strings and gobs of sapphire.

Joey had stood dumbfounded, in complete and utter shock at what had just taken place. His jaw had dropped and he looked like a fish out of water as he stood there gaping down at his mussed shirt, “what the hell?!” he roared, “this is brand new you fucking prick!”

Muffled giggles had rung out from the surrounding pupils and Joey angrily reached for a bottle of yellow paint to retaliate, but the teacher had been too swift and intervened before Joey could get the lid off and had snatched the bottle out of his hands, “both of you! Principal’s office, now! Donner you’re not even in this class!”

Joey huffed, “thanks a lot, ass-wipe,” he shook his head in disbelief at the entire situation as he had ducked out of the classroom and retreated down the hall in the direction of the principal’s office.

Patrick had then set the open paint bottle down on the table and exhaled as he, too, had exited without so much as a backward glance at you. He knew what was to come when the two of you made it home (you much earlier than he would due to a more than probable detention in the impending future). He had followed the teacher’s pointing finger as he walked out the door and trailed Joey down to the office.

As quickly as his temper had risen, it dissipated. Patrick could get riled up easily, but within five to ten minutes, he would have been over it. He never held grudges or stayed angry for very long. If he did, then he liked to work off his frustrations in metal shop, where he could weld, hammer, pound and destroyanything as much as he liked without consequence. The last thing he had ever wanted to do was destroy what he had with you.

Patrick didn’t know much anymore, other than he couldn’t wait to make it up to you any way he could.

“Why would you take the couch?” you asked softly, your voice laden with exhaustion as you pulled yourself up and shifted over so that you could see him more clearly. When you found yourself in an upright position, your eyes fell to Patrick’s side as he was clutching a rather haphazardly thrown-together bundle of what looked like weeds. Patrick could tell by the direction of your gaze that you’d seen the flowers and he presented them to you, holding them up to the light so that you could have a better look at the tiny wildflowers he must have picked. Your gaze returned to his and his smile grew, “I picked them for you, on the way back. I know you’re not…thrilled with me for the way I acted today.”

“Pat…” you started, spreading your arms and legs apart as he stepped forward and let you embrace him, “you didn’t have to…Joey’s a huge idiot. I don’t blame you for any of that.”

“I know, I know,” Patrick laughed lightly as he let himself enjoy the feel of your warm body on his. You were always warmer after you’d been asleep and Patrick’s favorite thing on the planet were your hugs. He craved them the way most people would crave a delicacy like chocolate, but whereas chocolate could be as bad for one as it was good, nothingabout you was bad for Patrick’s soul. He felt at ease with you in his company and he would have doused Joey a thousand times with every paint color under the rainbow to defend your honor.

“I supposed since we’re fine then there’s no more reason for these?” Patrick winked at you as he held the flowers up to you.

“Oh, no I’m keeping these!” You greedily snatched the flowers from Pat’s tight, hot grasp on the stems, “they’re beautiful. I love them. Thank you, Pat.”

The Aussie chuckled, “buttercups and daisies,” he murmured as he smiled over how you admired the flowers he’d picked especially for you. Everything reminded him of you nowadays and he couldn’t pass the tiny namesakes by on his walk home from the school, “buttercups for my buttercup.”

You felt your heart beat a little bit faster over his last few words, “I love you, Pat,” you leaned closer and pecked his cheek, suddenly uncaring of the fight that had taken place earlier that day. It mattered little with Patrick in your arms. It was in this moment that you realized just how lucky you were to be loved by him in spite of all his imperfections. He’d gotten yet another detention that day, but he’d done it all for you and no matter how hard you contemplated it, you could not think of another soul who loved you so deeply that they would do the same.

Patrick held you closer to him, nuzzling in against your shoulder as he drank in your smell, drawing comfort from your shared closeness, “I love you too, sweetheart,” he whispered to you and he kissed your shoulder. You could feel the gentle thumping of his heart inside his chest and you smiled, knowing that same heart was beating now just for you and onlyyou.

You stayed close like that for how long you did not know, clutching the bouquet of flowers in one hand and embracing Pat tightly with both arms.

You loved him with every little broken piece of your heart that he’d glued back together with his love, this emotive and captivatingly genuine man whom you’d fallen deep, deep in love with, and whom you did not ever, ever plan to let go.


End file.
